Nothing much has changed since your departure, save for the quiet that now fills the halls. Mother has taken to organizingyet another party, as is her way. Father, as always, remains his steady self, though…
She paused and held her quill aloft as she pondered how to finish that statement.
Father wants me to get married soon, but before he could tell me the name of the man who asked for my hand, he was called away to deal with business in London.
Lavinia sighed. It sounded nonsensical when she pieced the thoughts together.
For one long, tense moment almost a week ago, she had dared to hope that Peter had asked for her father’s permission to marry her, but that was a ludicrous notion.
If Peter wanted to marry me, he wouldn’t have waited for my father to share the details. He would have proposed to me right then and there. The Duke of Pemberton is a man of action.
Lavinia did not write down any of that, of course. She merely told Madeline that all was well, that her father was in London, and that she hoped he would return soon.
As she signed the letter, she felt a pang of guilt for not confiding more in her new friend. But how could she? Madeline was Peter’s sister, after all. She could not very well talk about the way her feelings for him had left her unsettled and riddled withuncertainty. It would not be fair to burden Madeline with that knowledge.
With a sigh, Lavinia sealed both letters and set them aside for the messenger to send. For now, writing would have to be enough. It was a way to release the thoughts swirling in her mind without exposing too much of her true feelings. The solitude of the estate had given her ample time to reflect, but reflection only brought her back to the same unresolved question: what was she to do about Peter?
She rose from her desk, smoothing her dress as she wandered toward the window. She gazed out over the vast grounds, at the same path she had watched Peter’s carriage disappear down only days ago.
How had it come to this, that a man who had once been a mere figure in the periphery of her life had now become the center of her thoughts?
She had always prided herself on her independence, on her ability to remain detached from the expectations of society and love. But Peter had changed that.
She sighed, pressing her fingertips lightly against the cool glass. Perhaps time would help her sort through the maelstrom of emotions inside her. Or perhaps, she thought with a twinge of bitterness, time would only make it worse.
Either way, she knew that the letters she sent today were just a temporary distraction. And soon, she would have to face thetruth of her feelings for Peter. But until then, she would wait, and she would write.
CHAPTER 23
Peter sat in his study, surrounded by the ledgers and documents that had been left unattended during his absence.
Estate business should have kept him busy, but his mind was elsewhere. No matter how much he tried to focus on the figures before him, his thoughts continuously drifted back to Lavinia.
He had been burying himself in work for days, hoping to drown out the memory of her face, her confession. The way she had looked at him before he had broken her heart.
Almost two weeks had passed since he’d left Crawford Hall, but he was haunted by Lavinia’s face constantly.
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Watson, his butler, entered the room. He looked a bit distraught.
“What’s wrong, Watson?” Peter was out of his chair in an instant.
“You have visitors, Your Grace.”
“I do?”
Peter could not remember telling anyone he was coming to Linfield. When people had asked, he’d said he meant to head back to London.
He shook off the questions swirling through his head and asked the only sensible one. “Who is here, Watson?”
“Your mother, Your Grace. And your sister, Lady Madeline.”
“They are here? Now?” Peter cast a quick look around his study. His mother never ventured to Linfield Manor.
“Yes, Your Grace.” Watson cleared his throat. “Cook also asked me to mention that lunch is ready.”
“Very well.” Peter tugged on his cravat, straightening it. “Please escort the ladies to the dining room and set two places for my mother and sister.” His brow furrowed when he thought of what an inconvenience that might be for his staff. “And send Mrs. Hubbard my apologies. I do not mean to overburden her.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Watson gave a quick nod, then shuffled hurriedly out of the room.
